Tag: Freedom from smallness

Laying Down the Heavy Bags

https://unsplash.com/@branislavrodman

*

Laying Down the Heavy Bags

By Jane Tawel

October 5, 2026

*

Slogging through,

hauling around these heavy bags

of selves, and roles,

of identities I have collected — 

sometimes the weight of all of them

is more than I can bear.

But to leave them alone and unguarded

Beside the Road is scary.

What would it feel like to be so light?

Who would I be without my stuff of self?

*

Even the celestial bodies

I have assumed to wear

as coats of many colors

are nothing more than history’s passing fads.

And I am just a tad tired

of being used by my need to believe.

Belief is over-rated as a weight-bearing device.

*

To be lightened, without load, is scary.

To give up a closet full of theories

Leaves me lighter than I can bear.

The air is too thin

without the ballast of my strong convictions.

I’ve never been a fan of flight.

*

To be Light is scary.

Darkness has covered a multitude of sins.

But I have found quite lately

that the burdens I have carried

are making holes in the fabric of my life

and despite my attempts at staying under cover,

the holes keep letting the Light shine through.

*

There are many ways to lay down what we carry.

And I am finding that if I do not volunteer

to let go and leave my illusive, leaden payloads behind,

then bit by bit,

the holes torn in the fabric I have donned

of selves meant to disguise the soul –

those very holes enlarge,

and fill the empty spaces — 

and whether I mean to or not,

I leave all my tattered rags of my small self

Scattered higgledy-piggledy

in my wandering wake.

*

I imagine someday you may find me

(or at least I hope You do)

crawling and inching ahead along the path,

an unknown, unknowing infant,

naked, unashamed,

and Weightless.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2026

De-linting the Soul

https://unsplash.com/@valnastudio

*

De-linting the Soul

By Jane Tawel

June 30, 2026

*

My life is like a woolen sweater.

And for better or for worse,

It picks up the lint of cares and woes, and leaves me — at best — fuzzy;

and on my worst days,

underneath the sticky bits and pieces,

You wouldn’t recognize — 

for all the obscurations — 

the lovely fabric

that I once called my Self.

*

I wear my heart upon my sleeve

and grieve for wasted hours.

I have spent a life-time (so it seems), continually zapped and attracted to

the static electricity

that draws the small self

to the dross of info-mercials

and the shallow pools of beliefs.

How constricting to Experience

are the tight constraints of creeds

and the ego’s flimsy needs

of knowing the Unknown!

*

We are so apt

to attract the small things of this world,

and wear them like jello-ey armor.

Snake-charmers offer us

the splith of polyestered promises

and we exchange our Robes of Righteousness

for scraps of fame and fortune.

*

The heart longs for a Soul washed cool and clean;

and to wear upon the breastplate of Desire,

some Super-Powered magical coat-

a cloak to drape over

this worn and lint-y sweatered, sweltering self;

a cape of invisibility against the clawing chatter;

a coat of many colors to be set-apart;

a cape with wings to fly above and

to soar beyond the latest news or views;

to uncover a covered face that looks only down

upon sinking sandy shoals of un-real real-estates.

*

I seek the fabric-proof of Wonder

to daily use upon my sweatered self — 

the warm embrace of sun on skin

and breeze in hair

and watching dust motes fly

from my small self to scamper in the air.

*

I seek the Washer

of sweaters, fish, and feet

to wash away the chattel and the floss

of doctrines, policies, and cults

and the small iotas of informational-dross;

of lint, and dust, and things that tear

and all that makes me unaware

of how the Soul longs to be freed,

unclothed and standing unashamed.

As Eve once waltzed

before a Glorious World,

I yearn to cast away this linty life;

clothed only in the glory of

Created Good,

casting off my tattered rags,

uncovered and unclothed,

dancing unencumbered

into our Deep Divinity

and an Eternity of Life

lived Whole and lint-proofed

unraveled and unashamed

the un-Sweatered-Soul 

now naked as a baby 

that is purely Loved.

© Jane Tawel, 2026